Solstice Eve
by pilea
Summary: Qrow was struggling to stay coherent. Who knew the Ice Queen had a sense of humour? Or maybe his perception was distorted by the alcohol. This was a new side to Winter and he wished he was more clearheaded to fully appreciate and explore it. A series of Solstice Eve encounters cause two huntsmen to appreciate each other in a new light. Qrowin/Snowbird.


It was snowing in Altas. The flakes fell in down-like clusters settling into a thick, sparkling duvet over the trees, rooftops, and streets. The night sky was clear. The fragmented moon was shining, its innumerable facets glimmering in the velvet dark. It was a peaceful night, the type of night where Winter Schnee would have been thrilled to curl up on her couch with a good novel and a warm beverage, enjoying the quiet surroundings of her private home. Instead, she was standing in a chilly ballroom listening with patient attention to an elderly councillor as he recounted a story of his ancestor's heroism during the Great War. He repeats this story every year, only he never remembers this after his third glass of champagne, so he launches into a retelling as spirited and enthusiastic as ever.

It was Solstice Eve and Winter Schnee was attending the Solstice Eve Gala. The Gala is held annually to commemorate the end of the Great War and to celebrate the solidarity and comradery around the creation of Atlas as the reigning technologic metropolitan. Although the exact date of Atlas's founding may not have fallen on the eve of the solstice, it has always been celebrated in the mid-winter. The Gala is organized and hosted by Altas's upper echelon to celebrate the year's successes, promote goodwill, and fundraise for a charitable cause. It is well-attended by prominent members of the military and council, so the event invariably becomes a political one. If you wanted to sway a councillor on one issue or another, the Solstice Eve Gala would be the perfect opportunity as spirits were high and also flowed freely.

Ever year the Gala's organizing committee selects a charitable cause to support. The ballroom is decorated with dozens of pine trees each festooned with garlands, lights, and ornaments until their boughs groaned. The trees are donated by local businesses and are judged on their presentation and their tribute to the current year's receiving cause. They are auctioned off at the end of the evening before the closing dance. Winter smiles to herself when she recalls the year where donations benefited a local organization promoting wildlife habitat preservation. An eccentric councillor donated a tree decorated with live birds but they escaped and caused much chaos in the ballroom. It was the liveliest Gala in years, especially for the poor stifled children who were stiffly dressed and bored to tears. They would have much rather been playing outside, a young Winter Schnee included.

Winter has been attending the Solstice Eve Gala since her childhood, originally as part of the Schnee clan. In the preceding weeks to the Gala, Jacques Schnee would drill his children on proper decorum so that they were paragons of politeness and charm. It was easier to forget the questionable business practices of the Schnee Dust Company when Jacques paraded his cherubic children at the public Gala. Whitley had a special knack for bestowing guile compliments upon the unsuspecting elderly politicians. Winter herself was popular among certain councillors: those who respected her decision to the leave the SDC, and those who had a penchant for nostalgia like the gentleman who recounted his ancestor's glory every year. She was a familiar face to the older generation who had watched her mature into a respected young woman and they were fond of her. Presently, the former heiress represents a different organization helmed by a different man. Still a paragon of politeness and charm, Winter uses these skills to the advantage of the Atlesian military as an ambassador. The ironic symmetry of her current position to her previous one is not lost upon Winter, and she repressed a wistful sigh when the thoughts clouded her mind.

As a child, Winter's favourite part of Solstice Eve was coming home after the Gala. Father would retire upstairs immediately, while Mother, Klein, and the children gathered in the living room. They listened to Klein's animated storytelling with delight while sipping hot chocolate. After some years, Mother stopped attending the Gala altogether, preferring to spend the evening alone in her room with the contents of a bottle as her only company. Klein carried on the Solstice Eve tradition with the children and Winter was profoundly grateful to him. Nowadays Winter would love nothing more than to spend a quiet evening at home, indulging in the simple pleasures of life like wearing pyjamas and sleeping past seven-o-clock in the morning. She would call Weiss, a departure from their usual letter writing, and listen eagerly to her adventures. Winter was deeply glad that Weiss made friends at Beacon and she was thrilled when Weiss wrote to tell her that she was spending this Solstice Eve with her teammates. Winter thought back to her visit to Beacon Academy the autumn when she met Weiss and her team captain, that peculiar Ruby Rose girl.

By this point in the evening Winter had managed to retreat from mingling after what she deemed was a polite amount of time in conversation. It was also the time in the evening where most of the attendees had finished their second flute of champagne, aiding her exit. She was still on her first flute, one needs to keep a level head during diplomacy after all. Now that her duty was done, she made her way towards the decorated trees.

This year's tree auction will support the Atlas children's hospital. The Schnee Dust Company donates a tree every year and every year it looks the same – a tall pine with its branches weighed down and dark needles almost completely obscured by numerous delicate crystal snowflakes in the form of the SDC logo. It was menacingly beautiful, lacking any semblance of warmth and creativity. _How typical for Father,_ Winter thought as she strode past it without a pause or glance.

The SDC aside, Winter looked forward to admiring the decorated trees, even now as a young woman. Strolling among the trees undisturbed and unrushed was the sole leisure activity of her night. Although she attended the Gala fashionably dressed with a smile on her painted face, looking and behaving every part the charming ambassador to the military, her attendance was an obligation. Winter was not a naturally charismatic person, but she could perform splendidly if the situation called for it. It was mentally exhausting for her, but she would do her duty and she would do it well.

The evening was finally drawing to a close and the trees were being auctioned off. Winter wandered over to the bar and sat down, resting her tired feet. She never stayed for the dance. Conversation had consumed all her energy, she had nothing left to spend. Suffering under the discomfort of physical contact with strangers, some with poor rhythm and poorer hand placement, was absolutely out of the question.

Soon, she would be free to head home and enjoy what was left of her evening. She set down her champagne flute and in an unusual gesture for her, leaned her arm against the bar counter and rested her head in her hand. Her clear eyes swept vacantly across the glittering ballroom filled with glittering trees and she sighed. Another Solstice Eve passed in the same impersonal way as the last.

In another corner of the ballroom, a man set down his empty flute on the tray of a passing server. It was his fourth of the night, and he was ready for a more substantial drink. _Champagne is just expensive bubbles, bah._ Qrow Branwen was annoyed. He had given up his Solstice Eve on quiet Patch for this evening surrounded by a bunch of pretentious snobs and sell-outs. Ruby, Yang, and their teammates would be in Patch and he was sad to miss an opportunity to spend time with them. _Damn Oz, why did I agree to this?_ Ozpin could not attend the Gala this year and sent Qrow in his stead. It was a political event after all.

"James will be there, why do you need me?"

"Because as much as I admire and trust James, you and I know how stubborn and bull-headed he can be. I need someone there who is more subtle and can lend a sympathetic ear to those who may not fully support the Atlesian military."

Qrow would not deny that James Ironwood was stubborn, and he absorbed Ozpin's affirmation with smug satisfaction.

"Besides, they have a very well-stocked bar and I believe they will be generous with their alcohol."

"Fine, I'll go. And because I am also generous, I will gather intel AND investigate your claims on their alcohol."

Qrow made good on both accounts. Despite his assertion that champagne is insubstantial, he was quite intoxicated. He made his way towards the bar with the intention of enjoying his liquor in solitude, he was not one for pleasantries. He would have preferred a scouting mission over this, any day. As he approached the bar, he saw the slender back of a pale woman with pale hair, sitting lost in thought. He smiled and quietly took a seat next to her. _Oh this is going to be fun._

"Saw that gaudy tree of yours, I guess you're here too."

Winter snapped out of her reverie instantly and turned towards the unwelcome man who has seated himself next to her, her mild disinterest vanished and was replaced immediately with a seething fury. She sat up straight, the hand that was supporting her head was now resting on the counter closed into a fist.

"Hello Qrow," she replied in clipped, even tones. _I will not resort to violence. I will not resort to violence. I will not let him get the better of me this time. I have my reputation, and the military's, on the line tonight. Maybe I can poison his drink instead. Maybe I should have a drink, would that numb me from his grating voice and overall repulsiveness as a human or would that only make me more inclined to homicide? No, I will not resort to violence._

"Ice Queen. You're looking frigid as usual." If Qrow was being honest with himself, he would admit that Winter looked very attractive in her elegantly simple navy gown that exposed a generous portion of her back. _She's hot, for an Atlas Specialist._ "Where's Jimmy? Did he leave you behind?" he grinned, knowing his flagrant insolence towards her superior officer was a sure way of riling her.

"The _General_ has business to attend to. Do you have business with him tonight?" Winter asked in a disinterested tone, turning her gaze back to the ballroom. _Keep it together Schnee, you know he is provoking you deliberately._

"Maybe, maybe not. Even if I did, it wouldn't concern you. Wouldn't want a repeat of what happened last time, would we." He turned to face her squarely and was delighted to see patches of pink blooming across her usually pale cheeks. He caught her gaze and winked. She scowled and suppressed a rising urge to punch him in the jaw.

 _Damn him!_ Winter thought to herself, now consciously forcing her breathing to remain steady and even as her heart thudded rebelliously inside her chest. That autumn in Beacon was a low point in Winter's professional conduct and she could not yet recall the memory without feeling embarrassed. _Why am I being punished? If only my semblance granted me the power to eviscerate him telekinetically._ She ordered a whiskey from the barman and took a slow, fortifying sip. Qrow ordered the same and took a messy gulp. When she was in full control of her emotions again she glanced at her adversary.

Qrow was wearing his usual huntsman garb, including the tattered red cape. His disregard for the dress code also annoyed Winter, compounded by her personal discomfort in her flimsy gown and uncomfortable heels. _He has the option of a dinner jacket and pants, clothing that is functional and insulating, yet he chooses to wear his usual rags._ Winter was feeling more and more irritated - this was a dangerous train of thought. She was determined to keep her composure this time and vowed that she will not rise to his baiting. Besides, she was unarmed and she couldn't think of a subtle way to strangle Qrow to death in the middle of a ballroom filled with witnesses. _I will not resort to violence._ She had to adopt a new tactic and go on the offensive. Surely she could use his strategy against him somehow. Arrogant men have inflated self-esteem and Qrow was arrogant. He must have some sensitive areas that she could wound with a few choice words. His alcoholism, No, he seemed pretty pleased with himself the last time I brought it up. Besides, exploiting his addiction was distasteful to Winter and she was not ready to stoop to distastefulness. She glanced at his outfit again and a past memory surfaced. Winter smiled to herself, _He was always vain about his appearance._

"You seem to have missed the dress code, Branwen. I'm sure even you would clean-up in a proper suit. It would make you look younger." Winter kept her tone light and neutral.

"Thank y- Hey! I am not old, and I don't need a penguin suit to look devastatingly handsome."

"You look devastating alright. Have you more grey hair since our last unfortunate meeting?"

Qrow ran his hand through his hair reflexively. He would sooner let Yang beat him in video games than admit that he was getting older. He was highly uncomfortable with being a man of a certain age. Although he easily assumed the image of the rogue bachelor, he didn't want to remain in this role for the rest of his life. He finished his whiskey and ordered another.

 _Bullseye,_ Winter thought. She flashed Qrow a sly smile and took another sip of her drink, unaware of just how deep her words had cut. She enjoyed being on the offensive and was prepared to let her hair down, so to speak, and have a little fun.

It was Qrow's turn to scowl, unused to being on the receiving end of their verbal spars. It was unfamiliar territory and he didn't like it. Besides, the expensive bubbles had made their way into his bloodstream and he was finding it more and more challenging to form coherent thoughts, much less translate them into cutting retorts.

"Shouldn' you be married to some rich, bigwig politician by now? You can't expect to remain in the military forever." It was rude to discuss a woman's marital status, or lack thereof, right? If she was going to comment on his age then he was not going to hold anything back.

"I was, but he's dead now."

"Wait, what?! You're widowed?" Qrow was clearly caught off guard as evidenced by his expression, eyes agog and mouth agape. Winter observed his incredulous face and felt her lips twitch in spite of herself. At this point in the night Qrow was blind drunk and struggling to keep Winter's face in sharp focus. He was certainly too bleary-eyed to catch the rare, playful twinkle in his companion's pale eyes.

"I killed him, but no one can prove I did it," Winter replied matter-of-factly. "It's lovely being a widow, no one pities me for being single and I'm free from the onerous burden of waiting on a husband." She met and held Qrow's gaze and took another delicate sip of her whiskey, highly amused at his alarmed and bewildered look.

"You're making fun of me Ice Queen," he said thickly, after a pause.

"What gave it away?"

Winter's eyes were positively dancing with mirth now. It was her first verbal victory over the older huntsman, although she felt it wasn't entirely fair as he was clearly inebriated. But he was drunk that time at Beacon too. Her guilt vanished, and she was back to savouring her triumph. She had unintentionally dropped her own guard and was smiling unaffectedly. A true smile, full of good humor; the contempt from earlier was gone. It was a subtle difference, but it brought such a change across her features. Winter was usually all delicate angles, reserved and aloof. Now her face glowed with a lovely warmth and the huntsman found himself inexplicably drawn towards her.

Qrow was struggling to stay coherent. Who knew the Ice Queen had a sense of humour? Or maybe his perception was distorted by the alcohol. This was a new side to Winter and he wished he was more clearheaded to fully appreciate and explore it. Winter Schnee was interesting right now and he wanted to get to know this side of her. Winter Schnees. There was two of her. He squinted his eyes again and focused her into a single figure. He blinked, and her doppelganger reappeared. Damn. This required too much effort.

A bell started chiming and the orchestra began to play, beckoning the attendees to the dance floor. _That's my cue,_ Winter thought. She gracefully rose from her stool to stand in front of Qrow, reaching for his drink. She finished the rest of his whiskey with a swift tilt of her chin, set the glass down in front of him with a deliberate "clink", and looked him in the eyes before walking away.

"Goodnight Branwen. Merry Solstice."

"G'nigh Ice Qweeen," he slurred. _Daaamn,_ he thought as he struggled to keep his eyes fixed on Winter's toned back as she strode across the ballroom.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading! This is my first foray into writing fanfiction, I'm still figuring out the formatting. I've used the site for years and years, but have only recently made an account and seriously considered writing. This fic is meant to be short and sweet, lighthearted fun inspired by the holidays. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know if you do!


End file.
